Hell on an Angel
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: Now, almost a year later, Carol was an entirely different woman. She was tougher, stronger, but in so many ways, still broken. Just like him.


This idea came out of the blue yesterday while I was listening to my MP3 player and came across Brantley Gilbert's song, Hell on an Angel. It is the most perfect Daryl song, at least to me, and I was thrilled to use it for my first Walking Dead songfic. And apparently I'm a Caryl shipper, so if that's not your thing, you probably won't want to read this. Also, there are adult situations abound in here, so heed the T rating. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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When the world ended, Daryl Dixon did not see much of a difference. He still hunted, people still did terrible things, and there were still things he did not understand.

Carol Peletier was at the top of that list.

When he had first laid eyes on her, she was a tiny, mousy woman whose husband enjoyed knocking around. He had wanted to get involved a few times, but something always stopped him. And he would hate himself every time he saw her sporting fresh bruises or a split lip. But he would just scowl and go one about his business.

Then there was that night the camp was overrun by walkers. He'd come back from Atlanta to find the camp under attack. Ed had been the first one killed, and Daryl could not say he was not secretly relieved. Happy, even. He had been convinced Carol and Sophia would finally be okay, now that they were free of Ed.

The loss of Sophia was a devastating blow to the entire group. He had searched for her for days, earning a bullet and an arrow to his side in the process. It did not stop him; nothing would. He refused to stop searching until the thing that had once been Sophia came staggering out of Hershel's barn. He had grabbed Carol as she ran for her daughter, sobbing and calling her name. They had hit the ground together, his muscled arms holding her tight as Rick ended it all for Sophia. He still remembered Carol's crying and Sophia's snarls every night when he closed his eyes.

Now, almost a year later, Carol was an entirely different woman. She was tougher, stronger, but in so many ways, still broken.

Just like him.

_They say I was baptized in dirty water_

_By the hands of the devil himself_

_Between the banks of the whiskey river_

_Beside the highway to hell_

The first time they shared a bed, it was the coldest night they had seen since the beginning of all this mess. It was only a couple of days after the events at Woodbury, where Daryl had seen his brother ripped apart by walkers. He still was not sure how he had managed to escape and get back to the prison, but he had. He remembered reaching the gate and seeing Carol flying toward him just before he passed out from exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a bunk in Carol's cell, and she was on the floor beside him. Her back was against the wall and her head lolled to the side. He guessed she had been watching the door, as though she expected someone to come in and take him, or for him to leave. He coughed, causing Carol to bolt upright and grab her knife, the knife he had given her the previous winter. The look on her face was indescribable, making him wonder just what her feelings were for him. He didn't have long to contemplate it, though, because the cell was suddenly filled with members of their group and he told them about the events at Woodbury. The following few days had been spent with every able bodied person on guard. Carol refused to let him out of her cell, ignoring every threat he made and every dirty look he gave her.

The weather was turning colder now, and everyone had taken to sleeping in pairs. Maggie and Glenn curled up on the top bunk in their cell, Beth slept close to her father, and Carl slept sitting upright with his baby sister in his arms. Rick insisted on keeping watch at night with Michonne, leaving Daryl to wonder if they weren't sleeping together. But that wasn't his business, so he kept his mouth shut.

Carol had insisted on sleeping by his bunk at night, wrapped up in his poncho and using her arm for a pillow. However, on this particular night, she shivered as she lie beside the bunk.

Daryl argued with himself for a long time before he finally muttered, "Carol."

Startled, Carol raised her head. "What is it? Are you okay?" Her voice was sleep-laden.

"Get up here."

"What?"

"You heard me," he said gruffly. "I ain' repeatin' myself."

There was a long moment when he was certain she would run screaming out of the cell. But as always, she surprised him. She moved slowly as she crawled onto the thin mattress with him. Her movements were careful and almost guarded as she turned over and curled up on her side so that she was facing the entrance of the cell.

The difference in warmth was almost immediate. For such a small thing, she provided an incredible amount of body heat. His cheeks flamed as he tried not to think about how warm she would be pressed up completely against him. As it was, there were only a few inches between them and he could barely stand it.

"Daryl?"

He grunted quietly.

"Thanks."

Now he was puzzled. "What the hell for?"

"Surviving."

He stared up at the bottom of the top bunk for a long time after her breathing evened out and he was certain she was sleeping. He was a survivor; it was all he knew how to be. Now he had even more of a reason to survive, more of a reason to fight for his miserable existence. Half of that reason was Judith, and the other half was curled up mere inches away from him.

He spent the rest of the night contemplating the thought.

_I got scars on my heart and knuckles_

_I got debts that I ain't paid_

_Yeah but I got a blessing sent down from heaven_

_Baby, you're my saving grace_

He supposed he fell asleep at some point in the night, because when he awoke, it was daylight and he was incredibly warm and comfortable. It was so tempting to return to sleep, but curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes.

During the night, they had both shifted on the small mattress. He was now on his side and facing the wall. Carol was pressed up against his back, her nose buried in his neck and one arm draped firmly over him, holding him in place. For such a tiny woman, she was impressively strong. Normally he would have pulled away from such an intimate embrace and scowled at her for falling asleep, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he resigned himself to relaxing in her embrace and closing his eyes again.

_I'll yell at her later_, he promised himself as sleep pulled at his eyes.

Later.

* * *

Carol awoke to a sensation of panic and confusion. The last thing she remembered, she had crawled into the bunk with Daryl with the intention of keeping watch for the night so he could rest and heal. Apparently, she had fallen asleep, much to her chagrin.

One eye opened to see flesh and messy hair.

Daryl.

Her cheeks flushed as she realized she was pressed against him from head to toe, and one arm was holding him tightly. Embarrassed by her forwardness, she tried to ease her arm from where it rested beneath his. As soon as her arm moved, Daryl shifted and groaned. His hand caught her fingers, keeping her arm where it rested.

She couldn't help smiling. He was never like this while awake, and truth be told she did not want to disturb him. There were no other voices to be heard, leaving her to assume everyone else was still sleeping.

What was the harm in sleeping just a little while longer?

* * *

When he awoke again, Carol was gone from the bunk. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he missed her warmth more than he should have.

He just shook his head and sat up gingerly, aware of the bruises his body had sustained. He was weak, which had to have been why he wanted her so close. It wouldn't happen again.

His movements cautious, he stood up and leaned against the wall briefly before he left the cell.

He was a weak son of a bitch.

_Girl, you got an outlaw_

_Ready to lay down all my guns_

_A dirty old hound dog_

_Learning new tricks like cuddling up_

_You got a hellcat purring like a kitten_

_You've got a sinner down on his knees_

_But it had to be hell on an angel_

_Loving the devil out of me_

It took a week for the group to finally relax and assume Woodbury would not attack. By then, Daryl was back on his feet and eager to make up for lost time. He refused to allow himself time to dwell, time to think about his older brother and his sacrifice. Merle Dixon had not been a good man, but maybe he had redeemed himself somehow in his last moments of life. The last thing Daryl had seen as he fled Woodbury was a burning inferno beginning to devour the community. If there were anyone left to organize an attack on the prison, wouldn't they have done so by now? They all seemed to think so.

Daryl was just coming off watch when he heard Judith screaming. Swearing to himself, he waved a hand at Michonne and took off. Rick still had not bonded with the baby, and most of her care fell to Carl, Beth and Carol, as well as himself. He had to admit, holding Judith was one of the very few bright spots in this dark existence.

Easily finding the source of the screaming, Daryl shed his gun and crossbow. Carl was pacing the floor with the baby, looking irritated and unsure of himself.

"Wha's wrong with the little ass kicker?" Daryl questioned as he approached the boy.

"Don't know." He allowed Daryl to take Judith out of his arms, and then sat down on the floor with a sigh of relief.

The baby continued to scream as Daryl settled her against his shoulder and shushed her patiently. "Hey, hey, hey, ain't no need for all this racket," he told the squalling newborn.

He was the last one everyone would have thought to take to the newborn, but what they did not know was that he actually _liked_ kids. Kids, babies especially, did not lie or cause pain for those around them. Their needs were very simple and basic, and easily met. They were small and innocent and needed to be protected at all costs. He would protect her, plain and simple.

Finally, Judith began to settle down against his shoulder. Daryl took her bottle from Carl and teased her lips with the rubber nipple until she finally latched on and started to suckle. A smile touched his weary lips. "There ya go," he murmured, absently swaying back and forth.

Carl got back to his feet and smiled at them. "She looks happy," he observed, gently patting his sister's back.

"Hmm," Daryl grunted, but he was pleased. Judith seemed completely content as she sucked on the bottle and grasped at his dirty shirt with her tiny fingers.

Carl let his hand fall away. "I'm, uh, gonna go get some sleep… You okay with her?"

"Course. Get outta here."

"Thanks, Daryl." The boy kissed his sister before he left the cell.

Alone with the baby, Daryl sighed. He still hated sleeping in cages, so he grabbed a few things for the baby and slipped up to the perch, which had become known as his.

Sitting down on his makeshift pallet, he settled the baby in the crook of his arm and studied her little face. Everyone said she looked like Rick and Carl, and a few brave souls said they saw Lori in her. But all Daryl could see was Judith.

"Daryl?"

He swung his head and watched as Carol climbed up onto the perch with him.

"What do you want, woman?"

_So tell me how did you get under_

_This leather skin I wear?_

_Beneath the calluses and the tattoos_

_Around the walls I built down there_

She smiled at him, and he was unnerved by it. "I saw Carl. He said you had Judith."

"So?"

Carol shrugged. "I heard her screaming, but when I went to check on her, you already had her," she said by way of an explanation.

Daryl looked down at the baby, snug and looking very much at home in the crook of his arm. It was the safest place she could possibly be, at least to him. He would do absolutely anything in his power to keep her safe, even if it meant laying down his own life for hers. In his mind, losing her was not even an option. It just wasn't.

"You're good with her."

"It's not hard," he muttered.

"Not for you." She reached out and gently brushed his hair back, causing him to jump slightly.

"What-"

"Shh…" She sat down beside him, and his first instinct was to pull away, to put as much distance between them as he possibly could. But something stopped him.

Carol smiled as she leaned over and looked at the baby. The bottle was nearly empty and Judith was quickly falling asleep in Daryl's arms. "She's a beautiful baby."

He heard the longing and pain in her voice, even though he didn't want to. He didn't know how to do it, but he knew he wanted to take that pain away and somehow make her okay again. He shifted Judith to his shoulder and began patting her tiny back until he heard a small burp. "Atta girl."

Carol chuckled. "A girl after your own heart, huh?"

"Course."

Suddenly she kissed his cheek, and he froze.

"The hell was that for?" he finally managed, his throat dry.

"For being you."

She started to get to her feet, but his hand shot out and curled around hers. She gave him a curious look.

"Stay?" It wasn't a request, but it wasn't a demand, either. He would never force a woman to do anything she didn't want to. He wasn't his brother or his father.

Carol studied his face for a long moment before nodding. She eased herself back down beside him.

Pleased with her choice, Daryl gave her a small smile before focusing again on the dozing baby in his arms. Once again, Carol's warmth was seeping into his body, leaving him comfortable and almost…content.

This wasn't so bad after all.

_To this heart I've long kept guarded_

_All alone, I was free to fly_

_Yeah, but it takes an angel to fly with a free bird_

_Baby, we've got the sky_

For once in his miserable life, Daryl Dixon was speechless.

He wasn't sure how it had happened, who had initiated it, or where it was going, but he didn't give a damn. Because his hands were under Carol's shirt and she was attacking his mouth with her own. He remembered vaguely coming off watch and stopping by her cell to make sure she was okay, only to find her sitting on her bunk and staring blankly at the wall. He remembered asking if she was okay as he approached her, and then it was hands and lips and he couldn't remember how to breathe.

Somewhere in the embrace they landed on the bottom bunk, and Carol let loose with a laugh Daryl had never heard from her. He found himself pleased because he had brought out that sound, or at least he was pretty sure he had. But that delight quickly gave way to something else, something much more intense and all-encompassing.

Shifting, Carol rolled beneath him and wound her arms around his neck. She was soft and inviting, something he had never really experienced before. Not without paying first, at least. One rough, callused hand slid under her shirt, over enticing skin.

Her eyelids fluttered. "Daryl…"

He covered her mouth with his as his hand moved further up. They broke the kiss moments later, and soon their clothes lay in a pile on the floor. This wasn't happening, and yet it was. He didn't want to let his guard down, but with her, he couldn't help it. It just happened. She was a force, something he had absolutely no control over, just like the way she made him feel when he didn't want to.

"Hey…"

He met her eyes as her hands came up and gently cradled his face.

"It's okay," she soothed, her eyes unnaturally dark.

He nodded wordlessly as she shifted, silently allowing him to settle between her legs.

Everything else disappeared in that one moment as they connected in every way two people could possibly connect. Her touch was warm and welcome as she scratched her nails gently over his shoulders and back.

As they moved together, he lowered his head and buried his face in the soft skin of her neck.

"Carol…"

_Girl, you got an outlaw_

_Ready to lay down all my guns_

_A dirty old hound dog_

_Learning new tricks like cuddling up_

_You've got a hellcat purring like a kitten_

_You got a sinner down on his knees_

_But it had to be hell on an angel_

_Loving the devil out of me_

Afterward, they lay on the bunk together, a tangle of sweaty limbs. Daryl was on his back, and Carol was tucked into his side with her leg and arm thrown over him. Her head rested on his chest as her fingertips lightly danced along his arm.

He raised a hand and ran it over her short hair. He didn't like feeling vulnerable at all, but this was different somehow. She was comfortable, safe.

She was home.

_Girl, you got an outlaw_

_Ready to lay down all my guns_

_A dirty old hound dog_

_Learning new tricks like cuddling up_

_You've got a hellcat purring like a kitten_

_You got a sinner down on his knees_

_But it had to be hell on an angel_

_Loving the devil out of me_

The End.

A/N: I absolutely love that song, and I love Daryl and Carol, so this was a lot of fun to write. Thanks for reading this, everyone, and please review with your thoughts and comments!


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